Page 25 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“Excuse me,” I said. “You can’t induce my dad. He doesn’t want to remarry. Why are you insisting on
him?”
“Stay away from this, kid. You know nothing about it.”
“You stop bothering our lives,” I said. “Who the hell are you?”
Mouth wide open, he said, “You need a mother to take care of you and your brothers, kid.” Turning
back to Dad, he said, “You will like her. She is your late wife’s half-sister.”
“My mom’s half-sister?” I exclaimed. “How could that be possible? No way!”
“Ask your grandpa, kid,” he said.
“Grandpa said nothing about that.”
“Just ask him.” He turned to Dad. “What do you say, Mr. Phugay?”
Dad glanced at me and said, “I need time to think.”
“I am glad you consented to my proposal, my friend,” said Ap Sangay. “You don’t need time to think.”
“What? Dad needs time to think? Meaning he wants to remarry?” I muttered and stomped away. “Here
begins the trouble.” I turned back and said, “I am going, Dad.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Anywhere.” But I could go nowhere and returned home when the dusk fell. I sat beside Dad and
sighed. “Are you going to remarry, Dad?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “Remarrying means extra burdens for you, Dad.”
“I know.”
When I returned from the winter vacation, two months later, I saw a young woman peeping through
the window. As the door creaked open, she turned her head in my direction.
“Could she be my step-mom?” I said to myself. “But she is too young to be a stepmother.”
She peeped through the window. So, I walked away to play with friends. A few months later, she
moved to her village and never returned. So, Dad went to her place every weekend for almost three
months.
“Dad, why don’t you tell Step-mom to stay with us?” I said. “It’s risky for you to travel in the high
mountains.”
“She has farm work to do,” he said.
“But—”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “She would join us soon.”
“When? She leaves even if she comes.”
“Stop bothering me!” he blurted and walked away.
When Step-mom came, I would go out to play and returned home late in the evening. I felt better in the
evening breeze. I enjoyed watching kids running across the street, screaming and laughing. That made me
forget the bad things in my life.
“You’re always late,” said Dad, one day. “What’s happening?”
I shuffled into the smoky kitchen and spread my mattress. “With friends.” As I lay, staring at the
ceiling, I missed my mom and brother.
“Dinner?” he said.
“I am not hungry,” I said.
“I know you are hungry,” he said.
Silence reigned in the room as we looked at each other’s face.
Problems often emerged, but I never wrangled with Dad and Step-mom.

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